


Ammends

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Bantering, Brief Appearances of the Hamilsquad, Canon Era, Drinking church wine for not church-related things, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Period-Typical Religious Zeal, Post Farmer Refuted, Washington and KGIII are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10040372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: Lee escorts Seabury home after the events of Farmer Refuted. They make out on a church pew. Sam's night isn't so horrible after all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> shrug , theyre gay

Sam was panicking. The fear he felt over his very public humiliation was poisoning his lungs, making it hard to draw breaths. He stood, trembling, _Free Thoughts_ document clutched in one hand, where he had scurried to the side of a tavern and tried to blend himself into the brick. He lingered right at the mouth of an alleyway, head bowed, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Hamilton was an _asshole_.

Samuel was just sensitive, was all, and having someone invade his personal space, shout at him, mock him publically, and then shit all over his beliefs was too much for the little bishop. He swallowed tightly, trying to recite his _Hail Mary_ s to calm himself. He was through with his third repetition of the prayer when a voice, tone low and careful, sounded from before him.

“Are you alright, Reverend?”

The smaller man wasn’t ashamed to admit he jumped a little, looking up with wide eyes. Oh. Just what he needed. The man who’d made the inquiry was a Continental soldier, and judging both by the way he carried himself and the glittering epaulettes, was a rather high-ranking officer.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

The Patriot raised an eyebrow, face softening a little. “I’m not here to make things worse. I hate Hamilton, too, if that helps.” He offered, voice still gentle. Sam had to admit, the light tone and kind words soothed him, and he stood a little straighter.

The soldier continued on, adjusting his stance to sweep his dark hair from his face. “I’m Major General Charles Lee, at your service. Would you care for an escort home? I wouldn’t like to see any of Hamilton’s cronies getting any wise ideas about harassing you.”

Samuel stared for a long moment. A Patriot general, a gentleman? My, my. This could play out to Samuel’s interests. The bishop’s church had long since become a source of anxiety, what with the no longer subtle rebel ideals coming to a head. His parish was falling apart. Sam smiled.

Lee smiled back, gentle and sincere, and extended his elbow.

Sam took it, intertwining their arms, and murmured, “Thank you, General.”

The officer inclined his chin graciously. Sam almost wanted to laugh. He hardly came up to the man’s jaw, and they must have looked quite the pair as Lee led him back into the square. Sam would have preferred to remain on the edge of the area, but Lee dragged him right through the crowd, towards the soapbox Samuel had been standing upon only a few moments earlier.

Samuel ducked his head complacently as they passed Hamilton and his little regiment of supporters. Lee squared his shoulders, head high, and looked Alexander in the face as they passed him by. Mulligan made a low, “oooh” sound, as if egging Hamilton on, but Lee deflated slightly as Sam tugged him insistently along.

Hamilton spouted something at their backs, and Sam tightened his grip on Charles’ elbow, continuing to move them, almost using the caustic man as a shield. “You should have let him talk to my face. I would have beat the shit outta him.” Lee said casually, and Sam sighed softly.

“I’d rather not be involved in any more violence, thank you very much.” Samuel replied gently, as they breached the edge of the square and started on the fairly short dirt path to his sacristy.

“I could tell. I wouldn’t have started anything. Probably would have gotten us both court-martialed again, anyways.” Charles’ voice was very British—even and accented, and Sam found himself almost immediately at ease with him, although they had just met.

“There’s no need to get disciplined for defending my honor, General, although I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I’ve gotten disciplined a lot more thoroughly for a lot less worthy of a cause.” Lee answered, laughter edging its way into his tone, and Samuel smiled.

The walk to the church was a short one, and they exchanged small pleasantries on the way there. Samuel learned Charles was a career military man who had been born in Cheshire, England, loved dogs, and had a sister overseas. Sam had heard of him before, and not realized it was the same man—one that stood toe-to-toe with Washington on a regular basis and constantly faced charges for insubordination.

Lee was a pusillanimous man by nature, but Samuel found himself giggling along at his side at his tales of Hamilton’s follies in camp. Upon arriving at the church, Sam promptly invited Lee inside, closing and latching the door shut behind him. His eyes lingered on the broad plane of Charles’ shoulders as the general wandered down the main aisle, one hand drifting along the backs of the pews as he walked.

Sam followed him after a moment, amused at the way his gaze traveled over the murals painted depicting Christ and other such religious symbolism. “I’ve done most of those myself,” Samuel blurted, and Lee turned to him with a little smile.

“They’re very good. You should write to good ol’ Georgie and do his next portrait.” The teasing was good-natured, and Sam laughed softly.

“I’m not quite certain that my talents are so great. His Majesty wouldn’t appreciate his visage depicted flawed.”

“He better not read any American papers then. Some of those caricatures are pretty damned ugly.”

Sam shook his head at that, a fond little smile on his face, and headed into the sacristy. Charles followed at his heels like a particularly obedient dog, and sat where and when Sam gestured for him to do so. Samuel went to a cupboard and produced two glasses, along with a bottle of wine.

“Isn’t it a sin to drink church wine for fun?” Lee drawled, raising an eyebrow and lounging a little in the old pew he was sitting on, one leg crossed over the other.

Sam hushed him gently and poured them both glasses, bringing the bottle along to the pew and sitting across from Lee. Charles took his glass gladly and raised it to Sam’s. They clinked the vessels together, then drank in one fluid movement. Lee drained his glass in one go, whereas Sam took a few slow sips.

They were kissing before Sam had even set his glass down.

The bishop made a surprised little sound in the back of his throat and set his glass aside. Charles carefully lifted a hand to caress Samuel’s face, and he immediately began to kiss back.

Samuel draped his arms around Charles shoulders, fingers running through the tassels of his epaulettes as he went. Lee shifted up against him, gentle in every movement he made, and Samuel curled closer. He pulled Charles down a little more, craning his neck, and after a moment, they fell into an easy rhythm.

Sam set one of his hands on Charles’ back between his shoulderblades, the other running up to card through his short hair. Lee laved his tongue over Sam’s lower lip, and Samuel sighed softly. Stomach turning with butterflies, the bishop leaned into Lee fully, and Charles wrapped an arm around his waist, steadying him. A long while passed, the two of them only parting for air just briefly before returning to each other.

Charles nuzzled against Sam’s face a little when they parted, Sam swallowing down a soft sound and scratching behind Lee’s ear. Lee leaned back in to kiss him again, and Samuel was more than happy to comply. This slow parting went on for a few moments before they finally stopped. Eyes half-lidded, Sam drank the sight of the slightly disheveled general in, stroking through his hair and smiling.

Lee’s high cheeks were as flushed as dark as Sam was sure his own were, and he smiled at him. Charles smiled back, finally taking a deep breath and sitting back to smooth his uniform down. Samuel released him almost reluctantly, then patted him on the top of his thigh.

Charles laughed a little and made to stand. Sam followed suit, kissing his cheek and motioning a little awkwardly to the door.

“Thank you for the escort, General.” He said graciously, and sincerely.

“Call me Charles.” Lee responded, inclining his head to accept the thanks. “Feel free to call on me if you need anything.”

Samuel smiled again, face soft, as Lee headed to the door. “Thank you, Charlie.”

Charles flushed again, hand on the door, grinned a little, and disappeared into the night.

Sam sat down a little heavily on the pew, then returned to his feet to gather his India ink and a quill along with a fresh leaf of parchment. ‘ _Frederick_ ,’ He started writing, still smiling to himself, ‘ _You would not believe what happened to me today._ ’


End file.
